Today I atoned for my sins in a theatre. The E-walk theatre… which sounds like the Ewok Theatre, watching a movie that was more war than stars. 40 year Old Virgin. I kept hoping it would become funny. It didn’t really. There were parts where I wanted to laugh but just couldn’t. Everything felt forced, like convincing myself to go to shul on the holiest of days. I don’t like being strong-armed into atonement. I suppose, though, in relationships I strong-arm too often. I guilt. I become the Jewish mother without the bad food. No one ever looks forward to a Jewish holiday. You know why? Aside from the fried latkes, there is no reason for Jew food. Okay, brisket, mostly because it’s a conduit for ketchup. Slap it on rye (seedless), and it’s all good. (Okay, Flanken… which is basically short ribs with a really scary name… is a good time. I concede). Though it’s nothing like fish night for the Italians on Christmas Eve. Now that is a celebration to atone for.